Love and Liquor
by sweetlover16
Summary: A story about Miley before she became Hannah Montana. She used to live in the ghetto, and Lilly used to be her rival. She also has a little sister named Karma.
1. Chapter 1

**Um, so I hope you guys enjoy this story. In it Miley's mom is still alive. But she might not be for long...Please send reviews! I know that this story sorta sucks but still I'd like to know how people think it is!!!  
**

Chapter 1: Rain boots

I, Miley Stewart, stare out the foggy glass window. The rain makes a soft 'tip-tap' sound against the windowpane. It is peaceful, that is until my little sister Karma starts to wail.

"Miley! Help! It's an e-emergency!" Karma howls. I sigh, get up from the couch, and slowly shuffle to her bedroom.

"What is it Karma? What's the big emergency?" I whine.

Karma's eyes are watery. "I want to go to Tatyana's house, but I can't find my rain boots! Help me Lindsay, please?" she begs.

I roll my eyes. Karma is always overreacting about the little things, when there are more important things to worry about, like our alcoholic father, Robby Ray.

"Okay Karma. Did you check in your closet?" I ask. She nods.

"I checked in there a gazillion times," she claims. I still decide to check, and so I open her closet door. Sure enough, her polka dotted yellow and purple rain boots are there.

"Thank you Miley!" She thrusts her pudgy arms around my neck, and hugs me like it's the last time I'll see her.

"Now can you take me to Tatyana's?" she asks, giving me these puppy dog eyes.

"Sure." I put on my raincoat and my sneakers. I don't bother putting on my rain boots, since Tatyana's house is across from us.

We head out the front door and I lock it, even though I'll be back in a couple of minutes. We live in the bay/ghetto area, so we always have to watch our backs.

Knock-knock. Mrs. Ali, Tatyana's mom, opens the door. Half of her hair is gooped up in relaxer, and she's wearing a t-shirt that says, "If you can read this, you're TOO CLOSE!"

"I suppose you're here for Tatyana," Mrs. Ali says. We nod. She turns around and yells, "Tatyana! You got company!"

Tatyana rushes to the front door and splutters, "Hey Karma, guess what? I got a new Barbie® doll!" Karma rushes into the house.

"Bye Mrs. Ali," I say. She just waves back to me. I enter my house. It is quiet again, except for the rain. I lock the door, slip on my fuzzy bear slippers, and head into the kitchen. I open the refrigerator, grab a slice of apple pie, and pop it in the microwave for about 30 seconds.

Then I start to think about Dad. Where was he anyway? Probably in a bar getting frisky with some girl. What about us? Didn't he care about us?

I decide to make myself a cup of hot cocoa with whipped cream to help calm my nerves. I reach for the cocoa, but then the doorbell rings. I go to the door and peep through the peek hole.

It's Dad.

Chapter 2: An Encounter with Dad

"Open the door Miley," he slurs. I don't budge. What is he doing here anyway?

"I said, open the door!"

I wince. In a shaky, unstable I say, "No." First there is silence. Then an eruption.

The doorknob rattles. I grab the cordless phone and dial Tatyana's house number.

"Hello?" Mrs. Ali picks up the phone.

"Yes, um, this is Miley...I was wondering if you could keep Karma over for a little while longer," I stutter.

"Okay, but child, what's wrong?"

I hesitate before saying, "It's our dad. He's back."

There is silence on the other line. Then Mrs. Ali speaks.

"Child, whatever you do, don't open the door," she warns.

"Okay," I reply. There is a click on the other line, and then an engaging noise.

I can hear the sound of a key rattling in the keyhole. I think of hiding, but there's no time.

Dad steps in the house, swaying. His eyes are bloodshot red, and his breath reeks of liquor. "Did you say 'No' to me when I told you to open the door?" he says.

I shake my head. "No. That was the television."

"That old broken thing works?" he cackles.

I don't speak. Instead, I examine him. He's covered with red lipstick, which means I was right; he had been with another girl.

"You've been drinking again, Robby," I say in an icy cold voice, just like Mom.

"Girl, that ain't none of yo' business. You startin' to act like yo' mama. Now come over here and give yo' daddy a hug," he seduces. I step away.

"No!" I screech.

"It was you. Come over here. You deserve a thrashing for disobeying and lying to me," he says.

He steps closer to me. I back into the kitchen and grab a pot. "Leave me alone," I growl, shaking with fury, "or else I'll hit you with this."

Dad slinks back. "You better be careful," he warns. Then he leaves.

After finishing my pie, I go and pick up Karma. Before she greets me, Mrs. Ali says, "Did he try to hurt you child?"

"Yes Ma'am but then I grabbed a pot and threatened to hit him with it," I reply.

"That's my girl," she says in a motherly tone, and wraps me up in a big bear hug. It's very comforting.

Tatyana rushes up to Mrs. Ali. "I thought I was your girl," she whimpers.

"You're my #1 girl!" Mrs. Ali coos, and picks up her daughter.

"Bye, Mrs. Ali. Thanks for the lemonade," Karma thanks.

"Kids, I suggest you guys be very careful. And Miley, you better tell your momma what happened."

"Don't worry; I'm positive we won't get hit by any cars. We've been crossing this road for three years and we haven't been hit once," Karma says sophisticated-like.

Mrs. Ali just chuckles and shuts the door.

Chapter 3: Dwayne

I clutch Karma's hand. "Ow! Why are you hurting my hand?"

"Sorry," I apologize, and ease up my grip.

Karma was studying me for a while, so she asks me, "Are you super scared of somethin'? Cause your face is like vanilla ice cream." Then she cups her hands around my ear and says, "That means VERY white."

"I know that Karma. And no, I'm not scared. Why would I be scared? I mean, there's nothing to scared of," I blab.

As we walk up the gray stoops, I notice a blue 1983 Cadillac in the driveway. That only means only one thing; Mom came home with her boyfriend again, Dwayne.

"Oh, hi sweet pea. You know Dwayne," Mom says in a dazed, lovey-dovey voice as soon as I swing open the door.

"Pleasure to meet you again, Miley," Dwayne says. His voice is loud and blaring.

"You too," I say in an icy tone.

Dwayne shifts in the chair. "Ah, well, this is for you," he says, awkwardly handing me a parcel. I throw it on the couch.

"Thanks."

Mom shifts uncomfortably. "And this is for you, Karma," he says and hands a gift to Karma.

She tears it open right away. "Ooh! A brand new Barbie® doll! Now Tatyanaand I can play with our new dolls!"

"That's so sweet," Mom says to Dwayne. They both look at each other and share a kiss. How repulsive.

"Little kids. So gullible, you know? She'll fall for anyone of your dumb tricks," I say. Both Dwayne and Mom are quiet.

"Well, I should get going now. Bye Dina," he says to my mother. "Bye Karma." She waves back to him. "Miley," he says. I give him an artificial sugary smile. He leaves and I shut the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Love And Liquor

Chapter 2

"What was that all about?" Mom questions. Her brow is furing, so I can tell she is mad.

I give her an innocent look. "What?" I ask, making my green eyes go extra large and sparkle.

Mom doesn't fall for it. "You know what. You practically chased Dwayne away! The poor guy was terrified of you! And besides, you're not my mother, so stop acting like it!" she yells.

I clench my teeth. "Karma, please go upstairs so Mom and I can talk," I order.

Karma huffs a breath. "It's not fair! I always have to miss out on the fun stuff," she complains. Eventually she heads into my mom's room. The distinct sound of 'Tom & Jerry' comes on before I speak again.

"Well I'm sorry that I'm acting like that but I'm trying to be mature since the REAL MOM here is going goo-goo over a guy!" I scream.

Mom rolls her eyes. "You're 14 years old! What do you know about maturity? And I am old enough to date whoever the hell I want to," she says, and glances at her fingernails like a Valley girl.

I smack my forehead. "Listen to yourself!" I screech. "You sound like you're 12! And I am mature AND smart. In fact, I'm obviously smarter than you. I know well enough not to have a baby at the age of 13! And you even did it with the wrong guy; a guy who would pick beer over you!"

Mom gives me a dirty look. "Don't ever, EVER talk about your father that way. He just has a lil' problem is all."

I laugh a fake, haughty laugh. "Hah! He has a problem? So, is that why he came downstairs and tried to…?" my voice trails off.

"What did he try to do?" I hear a small voice squeal. I spin around on my heels and see Karma standing in the hallway.

"What did he try to do?" she repeats.

I rush my fingers through my dirty strawberry blond hair. It's one of the few things I like about myself. "Nothing," I say.

"But…"Karma starts.

I cut her off. "I said, NOTHING!" I bark.

Her lower lip quivers, then the tears start. Karma starts to bawl.

"Oh god Miley! Look what you did!" Mom criticizes.

I roll my eyes. "Just, shush okay!" Then I turn to Karma. "I'm sorry Karma. Really, I am!"

Karma gasps for air. "It's not t-that. It's just the fact knowing that Papa will never see me again. H-he came down here and couldn't even say, 'Where's Karma?' He doesn't even c-care!"

I patted her back in sympathy. Then Mom pipes up. "It's okay sweetie. Your dad does care about you."

I snort. "Nuh-uh! Dad doesn't care about us!"

Mom shakes her head. "Where I went wrong….I don't know….your dad DOES care. He's coming over here for dinner tomorrow," Mom says.

"Really? Even after your breakup?" I am about to say _divorce,_ but I catch myself and remember that my parents had never actually married. I am impressed with my mom. She doesn't like to talk about him, let alone talk to him.

Mom nods weakly. I scowl. I don't believe her. Karma's face just lights up.

"Yay!" Karma shrieks. Mom smiles, and closes her eyes, as if to show she succeeded.

"So, that means he's coming at like, 7:30pm. What are we eating?" I ask Mom.

"Uh, I was thinking of making spaghetti with garlic bread and fudge brownies," Mom says uncertainly.

"Yummy!" Karma smacks her lips. Her eyes are dazzling, way different from the read eyes she had just ten minutes ago.

"Alright guys; we've had enough for a day. Now go to bed. It's way past your bedtime," Mom says.

I chuckle. "What bedtime? You've never acted like a mother, so why are you starting now?!" I yell.

Mom glares at me in an icy cold way. "Sorry," I hear myself murmur, and run upstairs.


End file.
